


Think Dirty To Me: Alternate Ending

by newtypeshadow



Series: Think Dirty To Me [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes is a menace, Communication, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Domestic Avengers, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Getting Together, Light Angst, Lust, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, MCU hodgepodge basically, Mentioned Skrulls, Mentioned Stephen Strange - Freeform, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Oblivious Tony Stark, Pining, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Requited Unrequited Love, Specifically: Involuntary Lust Telepathy, Telepathy, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Hates Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow
Summary: When we last left our intrepid heroes:A magic spell aimed at Steve hits Tony too, but everything’s fine! Until Steve starts thinking lustful thoughts about his boyfriend, Bucky—and Tony canhear them.Cue awkwardness (Steve), science (Tony), and scheming while being a shit (Bucky).Now that you're up to speed, this alternate ending to "Think Dirty To Me" sports a little more angst and conversation when Tony's done doing science.





	Think Dirty To Me: Alternate Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Think Dirty To Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672348) by [newtypeshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtypeshadow/pseuds/newtypeshadow). 



> This is an alternate ending for the fic “Think Dirty To Me”, which I wrote for the prompt "Telepathy" from Day 1 of the February Ficlet Challenge 2019. It’s one of the other Stuckony fics I mentioned in that fic’s notes.
> 
> In this alternate take, when Bucky asks whether Tony’s finished with the scanning, etc., Steve is asleep rather than awake. Since it diverged too much tonally from the beginning of the fic and included an event from CA:CW, I woke Steve up and cut or rewrote most of what follows “Tony is willing to die of embarrassment for science” to match.
> 
> All that’s to say this won’t make nearly as much sense without reading “Think Dirty To Me” first, but if you wanted Tony with a little less confidence, a little more angst, and a lot more conversation with Bucky, you might enjoy this version.

Tony’s only marginally surprised Steve and Bucky stick around in medical after the brain scans. They like to chill out in Tony’s lab, too, then drag him upstairs and make him eat and be social, and try to con him into sleeping. The two slot together like puzzle pieces on a couch by the windows while Tony analyzes the results with JARVIS and then frantically starts running diagnostics on his equipment. “Well,” he concludes at last, fuming at the bizarre results, “I fucking hate magic. Half these readings are literally impossible. These machines are not physically capable of rendering readings in whatever bullshit Hogwarts language this is—and yet, here we are.”

Tony shoves away the virtual screens in disgust.

JARVIS, bless him, turns them off by making it look like they hit a wall and shattered.

“If this spell broke my machines, I swear I’m barbecuing a wizard.” After a moment, Tony sighs. “JARVIS, maybe don’t tell me where they’re keeping him, I don’t want to know. Well, I do, but—”

“I believe that is best, Sir,” JARVIS says reprovingly.

Tony slumps and shuffles his hands through his hair in consternation. “I can’t even begin to fix this,” he admits. “J, call Strange again, send him the scans, he’ll love those. If he won’t come now, tell him I need an ETA.”

“Very well, Sir, I shall leave him another message.” JARVIS sounds displeased.

“Did he open the first one?”

A pause. “It would seem so.”

“Make a note: however long it takes him to show up is how long I’m waiting next time he needs the Avengers to help with his mystical bullshit.”

“Noted, Sir.”

There’s a rustle from the couch. “You done now?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve’s asleep with his head in Bucky’s lap. Bucky is gently carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.

God, Tony wants to be part of that. Moments like these, it hits him like a repulsor beam to the chest how much he loves them, and his chest aches like it’s too small to contain the feeling.

“Tony?”

Oh, right. Bucky asked him a question. “Done enough, Tastee Freez. Now we’re stuck waiting on Strange.”

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and throaty. Tony wants to wrap himself in that sound and stay there. “You know he’s gonna think this is funny and not show up for a week, right?”

Tony nods. “He’s kind of an asshole.” It’s part of why he and Strange get along.

“Come sit down before you fall down,” Bucky says, patting the empty cushion on his left.

“We should probably go upstairs so you two can eat something. Or _all_ of us can eat something. I think I was skipping lunch when the call came to assemble.”

Bucky frowns at this, but lifts his arm invitingly. He and Steve look so peaceful and soft that Tony is easing himself onto the couch and tucking against Bucky’s side before he can think to deny himself. Bucky’s arm slips around Tony’s back and holds him close. “I wanted to talk to you before Stevie wakes up,” Bucky says into Tony’s hair.

“Should I be wearing the armor for this conversation?” Tony asks.

Bucky snorts. “Not that kinda talk.”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure making me move right now would violate the Geneva Conventions.”

“Those don’t apply, Tones. We ain’t at war.”

Tony smirks. “Make me move and we will be.”

“You’re such a punk,” Bucky says, but his thumb burns a trail along Tony’s side where it begins stroking back and forth, and he sounds fond.

“Wow, sweet-talker.”

“I save my best stuff for you and Stevie.”

That can’t mean what Tony wants it to mean; sometimes Bucky flirts like he breathes. “I’m pretty sure ninety percent of it goes to Steve,” Tony says. He tries not to sound wistful, but he’s tired and comfortable, and Bucky is warm and petting him, and Tony’s probably not as controlled as he should be.

“Maybe,” Bucky concedes. “But what we _want_ is a fifty-fifty split.”

Tony’s heart stutters, then quickens. He tries to sound skeptical instead of hopeful when he says, “Steve’s way too possessive for that.”

“He’s not just possessive of me, doll. There’s a reason he’s always pissy durin’ those events when you’re off schmoozing the crowd.” There’s a grin in Bucky’s voice when he adds, a little dreamily, “But the post-gala sex is _amazing_.”

Tony squirms, trying and failing not to imagine it: Steve, in an impeccably tailored bespoke tuxedo from Tony, sweeping off the elevator, expression fierce and cheeks flushed as he stalks toward Bucky, crowds him against a wall, kisses him hot and hard. Steve’s hands would muss up Bucky’s perfectly coiffed hair to steer his mouth just so, and Bucky’s white gloves would bunch up Steve’s black lapels as they pulled him closer.

“You’re thinkin' about it now, aren’t you?” Bucky sounds smug.

“Whose fault is that?”

Bucky’s hand slides down, tugs, and then his metal fingertips slip under Tony’s shirt to rest against his bare skin.

Tony sucks in a breath.

“We want you to think about us,” Bucky says.

“Wait, you’re not mad at me for objectifying you? Which, arguably, is the correct response to being faced with human perfection, so really I’m just doing the smart thing—” Tony’s peters into silence when Bucky’s chuckles rumble into his ribcage.

“Oh, we’re human perfection, now, eh?”

Tony blanches. “Did I say perfection? I meant insufferability.”

“It’s okay, doll,” Bucky says, petting fingers along Tony’s side, “we think you’re pretty perfect too. You saw what Stevie was thinkin’ before we came down. We think about you like that a lot.”

“Oh,” Tony says intelligently. Bucky’s fingers are cool but the electric heat they’re sending skittering through Tony’s body is shorting out his brain. “You really…you want to have sex with me? _Both_ of you?”

“Of course we do,” Bucky says, like it’s been obvious for ages and Tony’s only just now getting it—which it hasn’t been, okay, Tony’d have noticed if Bucky was flirting for real. He thinks. Probably. “We want you _with_ us,” Bucky says. “In bed like Stevie imagined, and out of it, too, just like this. We want _you_ —whatever you’ll let us have.”

Tony’s world has been turned upside-down. In what universe do two heroic, upright men with superhumanly perfect bodies, and minds barely in their thirties, want with an old man with a broken body and so much blood on his hands that by twenty-five people called him the Merchant of Death? It just—it does not compute. Being with Tony would only tarnish them, to say nothing of their reputations.

 _Their reputations_. _Shit!_

Tony’s eyes narrow. He studies Bucky’s face intently. “Are you skrulls? Tell me something no one else would know, right now.”

Bucky stills for a moment, and his expression is so carefully blank Tony knows if he were almost anyone else he’d’ve missed the sadness in those pale blue eyes. He wishes he could take the words back now, even wants to apologize, because he _is_ a catch, he knows that, it’s just—they’re out of his league on the age spectrum alone; and why date him when friendship already gives them the benefits of Tony’s gear, wealth, and attention, with none of the the drawbacks that come with dating him?

“Is it really easier to believe we’re skrulls than to believe that we want you?”

When Tony looks away, Bucky splays his hand wide and tugs Tony closer. Tony curls his knees into his chest and wraps his arms around them.

“When Hydra gave me a metal arm,” Bucky says, low and somber, into Tony’s hair, “it took years a’ training to stop reacting like it was breakable like my old one. I used to panic. I blocked thousands a’ knives and bullets before it felt normal enough to stop bein' afraid.”

Tony hadn’t known that. “Makes sense,” he says into the silence, hoping that’s the thing no one else would know, but knowing it isn’t. He’s sure whatever Bucky says next is going to hurt. He’s right.

“Steve was down, in Siberia,” Bucky says.

Tony goes cold with shame. “You don’t—”

“Steve was _down_ , Tony. He didn’t see when I tried to pull the arc reactor outta your chest.” He huffs a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t know you were holdin’ back ’til you panicked ’n shot off my arm.”

Tony cringes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers around the pain in his chest.

“Don’t need to be.” Bucky pets him, and the touch feels soothing now, like forgiveness, even apology. “You thought I was tryin’a kill you, rippin’ out the thing keepin’ you alive. Few years earlier that would’a been true, goin’ for the arc reactor. But it takes more ’n a few years to change a reaction like that. You shot me ‘cause you were afraid, not ‘cause you were mad. Steve maybe suspects it, but nobody knows that but you ’n me.”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath and nods, because Bucky’s right. That moment has haunted him since the day it happened—Siberia has haunted him since the day it happened. He still hasn’t forgiven himself, but it’s comforting to know Bucky understands what was going through his head and doesn’t blame him. Even though he should. He and Steve both.

“Hey. Look at me, sugar,” Bucky says kindly. Tony does, and the ghost of a smile is curling across Bucky’s mouth. “Me ’n Stevie? We ain’t no goddamned skrulls.” He full out grins when an incredulous laugh bursts from Tony’s throat. “If we were though,” he adds, looking Tony up and down with a leer, “we’d be skrulls with _excellent_ taste. And we’d still wanna date you.”

Back to this then: the relationship Tony’s wanted so much, for so long, on offer at his feet—and his heart saying, _Accept_ , while his conscience and fear say, _Pretend this never happened_. “Have to say, Buckaroo—pretty big bombshell to drop out of left field,” he hedges.

“Only one didn’t see it comin’ is you,” Bucky says ruefully.

He begins carding his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony watches him do the same to Steve on his lap, mesmerized by the play of his dextrous fingers through the golden strands. The light massage he pauses periodically to give Tony’s scalp lulls him just as thoroughly, reminds him how tired he is after today’s battle, makes him want to follow Steve into sleep curled against Bucky too.

“You don’t have to tell me now whether you’ll let us step out with you. If the answer’s yes all three of us should be awake for that conversation anyway. I just wanted all our cards on the table so you could tell me if we don’t have a chance, and you’ll never be interested. You say that and I’ll back off—we both will. I’ll help Stevie be good until Strange fixes this, and we’ll all just be friends, no hard feelings.”

Tony worries his fingers in the fabric over his knees for a few moments, then gently nudges Bucky with his shoulder. His eyes are on Steve’s peaceful face—safer than meeting Bucky’s eyes—when he says, “And if I don’t say all that?”

“Then I’ll think we have a chance, and I’ll take it,” Bucky says, and his fingers in Tony’s hair tighten deliciously.

Tony’s mouth falls open in a quiet gasp and his eyelids flutter. He fights to keep them open, but Bucky’s voice purring in his ear doesn’t help.

“I’m gonna use Steve’s telepathy to show you just how bad we want you all the goddamned time. You’re so sexy it hurts not to touch you, sugar. Just thinkin’ ‘bout you riles us up so much. Stevie’s gonna try to be so good for you, not make you uncomfortable thinkin’ about how much he wants to bend you over and fuck you whenever he sees your ass in tailored pants, or how much he wants to watch your gorgeous hands wrap around my dick or use my hair to put my mouth on yours—and I’m gonna make sure he can’t help himself, every chance I get. You know if I whisper he can hear me across the room, babydoll? Him ’n me, we’re gonna have _so much sex_ while you can see his thoughts—and it’ll all be for you, to make you want to come join us.”

Tony’s throat works, but no words come out. He’s shaking with want, breathing fast, his balls are tingling, and he feels his pulse in the head of his dick. One of his feet has skidded off the couch and onto the floor. His fingers are flexing around his wrist, arm hooked around the only knee that’s managed to keep itself upright.

“Can you do that for me?” Bucky asks, lips grazing his temple. “Come join us when you’re ready? Yes or no.”

His fingers flex in Tony’s hair, and Tony’s breathless “ _Yes_ ” bleeds into a drawn-out moan. He knows his sudden mental image—of himself making that same sound with Steve’s fingers in his ass and Bucky’s mouth wrapped around his dick, Tony fighting to stay upright between them before Steve has mercy and folds an arm around Tony’s chest to hold him against Steve’s—is from Steve’s head. He looks down to see Steve stirring on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky doesn’t let go of Tony’s hair when he strokes Steve’s face and then shakes him awake. “We’re all done now,” he says, voice low and sultry. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Even as Steve’s thoughts go to mornings where Bucky uses that voice while jerking Steve awake and laying kisses like track along his collarbones, he makes the cutest grumble-whine as he rolls his head to look up at Bucky—and then his eyes trail along Bucky’s arm to the hand in Tony’s hair, and then along Tony’s skin with the heat of a caress, until they finally meet his lust-blown eyes. Steve’s cheeks pink and his nostrils flare, and Tony’s mind explodes with Steve’s ideas to take him apart right on this couch with Bucky’s help holding him down and stretching him open for Steve’s enhanced dick.

Tony’s back arches at the sudden influx of lust that shoots through his body, and his other foot skids off the couch and onto the floor, leaving his legs open and the tent in his sweatpants exposed.

Steve’s eyes fix on Tony’s dick. “ _Tony_ ,” he breathes in a rush.

He licks his lips, and Tony’s mind riots with his desire, and riots again with the sudden knowledge that Steve could deepthroat him for minutes at a time with no issues thanks to the serum, which, god, how is this _fair?_ How is Tony supposed to _not_ sully their reputations with his own by dating them when they’re already playing him like a Steinway grand piano and no one’s even kissed him yet?

“Upstairs,” Bucky insists, eyes bright and hot, grin halfway between dark and smug. “We ain’t fuckin’ in medical again.”

Steve fondly remembers rutting with Bucky up against a wall on the far side of the room, but his thoughts are clouded with anger that apparently someone (who?) was watching at the time. Tony can feel Steve’s curl of possessiveness around the memory, and around his lust for the two of them, and sees it in action when Steve nods and rolls to his feet. He’s pulled them after him almost before Tony can process that Steve has moved. “JARVIS, our floor,” Steve says, and tugs them forward.

Tony’s ass clenches in anticipation of Steve’s plans to get his hands on it the second they step into the elevator.

“That good with you, doll?” Bucky asks before Steve can drag them over its threshold.

Steve’s hand clenches around Tony’s wrist before he very carefully releases it. He scrunches his eyes shut and the lustful thoughts blowing Tony’s mind slow to a trickle and then nearly stop. There are still flashes, bright bursts of lust that go off like flashbulbs, but Tony’s mostly alone in his head now.

Bucky lets go of him too, and steps into the elevator. He leaves space for Tony to step in between them and looks out at him hopefully. “You ready to join us, Tony?”

It’s just lust, Tony tell himself. It’s just sex, he thinks, and tries to make himself believe that’s all Steve wants, even if Bucky might want more.

But Steve curls around Bucky’s side and presses his nose against Bucky’s neck, and Tony’s hit with the flash of Steve nosing into that scent just after coming, and how it smells like sexiness and comfort and home, and ramps him up or brings him back into his own body depending on which side of an orgasm he’s on. And Steve’s thoughts cut to Tony breathing that scent when they’re all sated and wrapping around each other to sleep tonight and every night, and how he wonders whether it’ll hit Tony the same way…and Tony can’t pretend it’s just Bucky that wants more from him than sex. They both want _Tony_ , and he wants them.

Tony squares his shoulders and steps into the elevator. “Their floor is fine, J,” he says.

“Very good, Sir,” JARVIS says approvingly—but Tony’s being hoisted aloft and too thoroughly kissed to notice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this alternate fic ending—I hope you liked it! ^_^ If you did, please do let me know—kudos and comments are fabulous and I treasure them like a very squishy dragon.


End file.
